Reggo
Blue Crack Addict
- Joined
- Mar 30, 2007
- Messages
- 26,992
Time for a new chapter, eh, girls? Have to know what exactly that letter was all about. 
Disclaimer: All fiction, not true, never happened, I apologise if the Gaelic is not quite right. I've done my best with the tools available to me. Where's Lars when you need him?
Thanks to Ali, without whom I could have never cured my writer's block.
And so, Miss Lucy Clayton, if you please, tell us and everyone at home what exactly is in that letter...
-----
Máire,
Teacht le chéile ag mé ag ár seomra an ostán. Táim sa Páras ar feadh scathaimh.
L
xx
or
Mary, (my first name is Mary. My middle name is Lucinda)
Meet me in our room at the hotel. I'm in Paris for a while.
L
xx
I'd read it a hundred times since I found it in Adam's desk. I couldn't believe it. He actually dared to do this. Ask me to a hotel in Paris. Want to spend the night with me. I felt like just chucking it and letting it go, but Adam found me with it.
"What's this?" he asks, knowing perfectly well what I've found.
"Something from Lardence," I reply. I pretend to read the note for the first time. "Idiot." I crumple it up and throw it in the bin. Adam sits in his chair and I hug him from behind and kiss his neck.
"Nothing important?" he smiles.
"Nothing I'm interested in," I press his scruff to my cheek. He hasn't shaved in a few days. "You got jealous. And you've been grouchy ever since Bono said Lardence was on his way down here. Baby, why don't you trust me?"
"It's not you. It's him," he shrugs, liking my arms around his shoulders. I walk around the chair and sit in his lap.
"You have nothing to worry about," I remind him. "You think I'd ruin everything with you and Stacie just because Lardence Mullen wants to get laid?"
"I guess not," and the rock in my stomach felt a little lighter. I smile and he kisses me. "Wanna go upstairs?"
I smile. "Who says we have to?" He kisses me again and starts unbuttoning my shirt.
I start trying to think of an excuse to get away to Paris. I have to tell Larry to leave me alone. But I don't want to. And after a week, Larry doesn't show up in Eze. I start to wonder if Bono actually called or if he was just screwing with us. Adam has a week of hostility toward me and everyone else to apologize for if Bono was playing a joke. But then there was the note, distinctly in Larry's handwriting, not Bono's serial-killer scrawl. Maybe he's staying in Paris until I show up.
It's raining when I flop on a chaise in the room Adam's set up his bass guitar in. "I'm bored."
"Hmm," he works on a chord progression full of harmonics and sucks on the cigarette attached to his lips.
I know he's not paying attention. "I'm going to dye my hair purple. Stacie's too."
"That's nice."
"Adam!" I shout. He looks up after playing one last arpeggio. "You're impossible."
"That's what you call me," he sets down his bass and climbs onto the chaise with me.
"Would you mind if I went up to Paris and went shopping tomorrow? I can only take so much sun and ocean air," I twirl my hair on the end of my finger.
"Not at all, love," I kiss him. "You don't have to ask permission to leave the house."
I shrug, "You've been acting weird lately."
"That note from Larry got to me," he looks at his feet.
"Adam," I say firmly. He looks up and I take off my wedding ring to show him the tan line underneath. "No matter how much you drive me mad, no matter how long your tours are, no matter the nights you're out till 5 AM just to get a song right, I still love you." I put the ring back on my finger.
"Grá go deo," he smiles. Some of the few words Adam knows in Irish, "Love forever."
He carries me to our bedroom, but before anything gets started, Stacie wakes up from her nap. "Ten more minutes. That's all I needed, just ten more minutes," he groans at the ceiling. I laugh, kiss him, mumble something that would turn the air blue into his ear, then tend to our daughter. "Oh, God, does she know what she interrupted?"
"Yes, Adam. She knows. She did it on purpose, too," I say, walking past the bedroom door, carrying Stacie downstairs to watch the rain and lightning over the ocean from the veranda.
Disclaimer: All fiction, not true, never happened, I apologise if the Gaelic is not quite right. I've done my best with the tools available to me. Where's Lars when you need him?
Thanks to Ali, without whom I could have never cured my writer's block.
And so, Miss Lucy Clayton, if you please, tell us and everyone at home what exactly is in that letter...
-----
Máire,
Teacht le chéile ag mé ag ár seomra an ostán. Táim sa Páras ar feadh scathaimh.
L
xx
or
Mary, (my first name is Mary. My middle name is Lucinda)
Meet me in our room at the hotel. I'm in Paris for a while.
L
xx
I'd read it a hundred times since I found it in Adam's desk. I couldn't believe it. He actually dared to do this. Ask me to a hotel in Paris. Want to spend the night with me. I felt like just chucking it and letting it go, but Adam found me with it.
"What's this?" he asks, knowing perfectly well what I've found.
"Something from Lardence," I reply. I pretend to read the note for the first time. "Idiot." I crumple it up and throw it in the bin. Adam sits in his chair and I hug him from behind and kiss his neck.
"Nothing important?" he smiles.
"Nothing I'm interested in," I press his scruff to my cheek. He hasn't shaved in a few days. "You got jealous. And you've been grouchy ever since Bono said Lardence was on his way down here. Baby, why don't you trust me?"
"It's not you. It's him," he shrugs, liking my arms around his shoulders. I walk around the chair and sit in his lap.
"You have nothing to worry about," I remind him. "You think I'd ruin everything with you and Stacie just because Lardence Mullen wants to get laid?"
"I guess not," and the rock in my stomach felt a little lighter. I smile and he kisses me. "Wanna go upstairs?"
I smile. "Who says we have to?" He kisses me again and starts unbuttoning my shirt.
I start trying to think of an excuse to get away to Paris. I have to tell Larry to leave me alone. But I don't want to. And after a week, Larry doesn't show up in Eze. I start to wonder if Bono actually called or if he was just screwing with us. Adam has a week of hostility toward me and everyone else to apologize for if Bono was playing a joke. But then there was the note, distinctly in Larry's handwriting, not Bono's serial-killer scrawl. Maybe he's staying in Paris until I show up.
It's raining when I flop on a chaise in the room Adam's set up his bass guitar in. "I'm bored."
"Hmm," he works on a chord progression full of harmonics and sucks on the cigarette attached to his lips.
I know he's not paying attention. "I'm going to dye my hair purple. Stacie's too."
"That's nice."
"Adam!" I shout. He looks up after playing one last arpeggio. "You're impossible."
"That's what you call me," he sets down his bass and climbs onto the chaise with me.
"Would you mind if I went up to Paris and went shopping tomorrow? I can only take so much sun and ocean air," I twirl my hair on the end of my finger.
"Not at all, love," I kiss him. "You don't have to ask permission to leave the house."
I shrug, "You've been acting weird lately."
"That note from Larry got to me," he looks at his feet.
"Adam," I say firmly. He looks up and I take off my wedding ring to show him the tan line underneath. "No matter how much you drive me mad, no matter how long your tours are, no matter the nights you're out till 5 AM just to get a song right, I still love you." I put the ring back on my finger.
"Grá go deo," he smiles. Some of the few words Adam knows in Irish, "Love forever."
He carries me to our bedroom, but before anything gets started, Stacie wakes up from her nap. "Ten more minutes. That's all I needed, just ten more minutes," he groans at the ceiling. I laugh, kiss him, mumble something that would turn the air blue into his ear, then tend to our daughter. "Oh, God, does she know what she interrupted?"
"Yes, Adam. She knows. She did it on purpose, too," I say, walking past the bedroom door, carrying Stacie downstairs to watch the rain and lightning over the ocean from the veranda.
.... 
